Death, Despair & Heart's Desires
by Dominus Trinus
Summary: Keeping a ten year old Phoebe Halliwell company should've been an easy task for Cole Turner. Four things made it more complicated than it should be: 1) The Source of all Evil trying to takeover him 2) Future Phoebe's hatred of him 3) Little Phoebe's growing curiosity about Prue and 4) Paige. Set during 'Three Faces of Phoebe' episode.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Charmed, you would be seeing this as an episode on TV. And if I owned Julian McMahon, writing a fanfic would be the last thing my hands would be doing ;-) So…yeah don't own anything, not even some dialogues from various episodes. Just own the crazy plot.

**A/N: **I know I should be updating my other two fics, but I somehow ended up watching _Three Faces of Phoebe_ and naturally wanted to write something about it. But after reading about a million stories of either Phoebe going home and telling her sisters and Grams about the future and another million stories about Cole's dilemma with the Source's powers, I naturally had to take a completely different and insane approach :-D

**Timeline**: Starts between _Three Faces of Phoebe_ episode and ends…err..well let's just say future consequences and leave it at that, shall we? :-)

**Special thanks:** To _gzv_ for answering every crazy question I came up with in order to write this. And to _ElauraGrave_ for the inspiration to help me figure out how to move the story forward :-) And _namjai _and _Daicy _for the long Charmed chats which also helped a lot. Thanks guys :-)

Anyways, hope everyone enjoys and reviews? ;-)

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><p>"<em><strong>I don't need to see the future to know about good witches. They're overly cautious by nature. Her future self will be too afraid to say anything that might make things worse for her and her sisters. She'll preserve the future."<strong>_

"_**How do you know?**_

"_**I've been a Seer longer than you've been the Source. You'll learn to trust my instincts."**_

"_**I'm not the Source."**_

"_**But you will be very soon. It's your destiny."**_

"_**My destiny is to be with Phoebe**__**.**__** Nothing will change that and neither will **__**this**__** thing inside of me**__**!"**_

"_**Your love won't be enough to save you in the end. You'll see.**__**.."**_

"She's dead, isn't she?"

Cole Turner froze in his mental struggles against the Source of all Evil. "What?" Even the Source halted his assaults for control.

The ten year old version of his fiancée gazed forlornly at the photograph above the fireplace; a picture of a younger version of Prue Halliwell.

"Phoebe?" Cole prodded cautiously when he received no answer. "Who exactly are you talking about?"

It felt like an eternity before she finally spoke.

"Aunt Gail."

Confusion tackled the sigh of relief from ever escaping. "Aunt...Gail?" He couldn't ever remember Phoebe mentioning an aunt, let alone one which had a name.

"Grams' best friend." Phoebe looked down, idly thumbing through the photo album her older self had given her earlier. "She comes every other Saturday for Bridge Club."

"Bridge club?" Somehow he doubted the grandmother of the Charmed Ones invited her friend Gail over for a game of cards. "Really?" A coven to practice magic however wasn't so farfetched.

Penny Halliwell was not only raising her three granddaughters, but three witches prophesized to be the most powerful witches of all time. She would've needed all the magical help she could get.

"Yes…and s-she used to bake us cookies too." Phoebe's voice slightly wavered. "A-And she never said no to anything."

It was obvious the kid was realizing seeing the future could be both wonderful and terrible at the same time.

The sigh finally left Cole's lips, but it wasn't of relief. For the hundredth time that evening, Cole wearily glanced at the stairs.

Phoebe—the present Phoebe—and her sisters were busy in the attic, trying to identify the demon that had attacked earlier. A demon who, without a doubt, would attack again.

"_Kurzon will be attacking them very soon. This time more prepared. You better hurry back... if you want them to survive."_

The Seer made sure of it.

She wanted Kurzon destroyed at all costs and didn't mind if the Charmed Ones paid it with their lives.

Cole found his eyes wandering over to the dining room, mechanically scanning the scene of the attack.

"_You better hurry back... if you want them to survive. If you want Phoebe to survive..."_

Cole clenched his fists, suppressing the impulse to flame down to the Underworld and grasp the Seer's throat again.

The last sentence was never spoken, but its implication was loud and clear.

Kurzon had shimmered from behind. He had attacked with an energyball.

Paige had sent the energy ball right back at him, but missed, shattering a vase in the process.

Kurzon had tried again, before Piper had unleashed her own lethal power and discovered he reconstituted. Like the Source.

And that's when Phoebe cast a spell summoning her past self.

And future self.

From the shattered vase to the broken light fixtures —the non-living victims of the demon attack—the implications were loud and clear.

Paige can deflect an attack. Paige can orb away from an attack.

Piper can unleash an attack. Piper can freeze an attack.

Phoebe...Phoebe was the problem.

"_Your power was always the weakest, hardly worth taking. Your life however is."_

The Source knew it.

The Triad knew it.

The Seer knew it. And thanks to her, Kurzon probably figured it out too.

The key to the throne.

"_Demons hoping to replace the Source will gather factions of followers, and what better way to gain support for your faction, than to kill the infamous Charmed Ones."_

The infamous Charmed Ones' power lay in the Power of Three. And the best way to destroy the Power of Three and the Charmed Ones?

"_Which sister shall we start with?"_

"_The most vulnerable."_

Cole slowly unclenched his fists and closed his eyes, his own words with the demon of rage echoing in his ears.

It wasn't personal, just good strategy. Take out the most vulnerable.

Simple.

Unfortunately, a world without the Source wasn't so simple.

Without a strong leader, anarchy and chaos ruled. Because of the Source's vanquish, there was a power vacuum in the Underworld.

A void.

There was a void in the Underworld and it craved for completion.

"_Too bad Belthazor's gone. He would have made a great new Source."_

Cole rubbed his face and again found his eyes straying over to the stairs.

The possibility of the Charmed Ones embracing evil and declaring themselves Queens of the Underworld was as insane as him and Piper falling madly and hopelessly in love. No one would bow down to witches and a half-whitelighter.

They would have to settle for vanquishing one of the Source's powerful enemies.

It would send a strong message. The cost of a war against the Charmed Ones for ascension to the throne would far outweigh the benefit.

The sisters couldn't afford any sort of distractions while they searched for Kurzon. Which ultimately meant...

"She was...she was really nice. And now she's dead. Isn't she?"

...Cole got stuck dealing with the terrible part of Little Phoebe's future experience.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his leather jacket and cautiously approached Little Phoebe. "Just because she isn't here right now it doesn't mean..." he trailed off, trying to find appropriate words to tackle the sensitive situation. "People grow old and they—"

"Die," Phoebe finished miserably, seemingly stuck on the same page of her album. "They die."

Curiously, just like Phoebe's sweet, loving, Aunt Gail, who Cole had never heard about until now.

His gaze glided over to the haphazardly slung brown coat over a carelessly tossed blue bag on the marble tabletop. A stack of notes in Paige's haphazard writing peeked out from the confines of the bag.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Maybe he had heard of an Aunt Gail.

As a former Triad agent, he had access to two years worth of information, collected by the blood of demons. The information mentioned someone close to the Charmed Ones betraying them. And the involvement of the demon of vanity, Cryto.

Could that be her?

"Old people always die." Phoebe's broken murmur interrupted his mind from answering that question.

He finally managed to catch a glimpse of the photograph Phoebe was staring at: Aunt Gail. Or rather Aunt Gail's best friend, Penny Halliwell, with a young, happy Phoebe.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled inwardly.

_Gram's best frien__d__….old people die any way…._

He didn't know why he couldn't see it. All the clues were obvious.

Whether the alleged Aunt Gail had been real or involved in selling Phoebe and her sisters' souls for beauty to Cryto, Cole knew it was too late to hide the truth from her. Or weave a lie to cover it.

All he could do was lessen the inevitable blow.

"We all die someday, Phoebe. It's…it's just the way it is."

Phoebe's lips quivered. Her chocolate brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Grams is also gone..."

It wasn't a question, but Cole answered it anyway. "I'm sorry."

The distraught expression on her small face, however, made him regret he did.

"C-Cause...she was...really old." The hitch in her small voice didn't go unnoticed. Neither the sniffles in her breathing. Nor the trickling tears she was rubbing at furiously. "A-And old people they...they are supposed to die anyway," she consoled herself.

"Right." Cole loathed himself for agreeing, but there was no point in hiding something she had figured out long before.

"Did she...did she get sick?"

He should've expected it. Details.

Phoebe had always been too curious.

"No," he replied curtly. "She passed away peacefully in her sleep." He distorted the truth, to make it appropriate for a child. "Surrounded by her granddaughters."

"So...one day...she...s-she never woke up?" Phoebe looked stricken by the possibility. "No matter how hard you tried? She was…just…just…."

He grimaced.

Perhaps the uncensored version of truth might've been better.

"The...uh...the important thing to remember is that she's in a better place now." He was forced to resort to tactics used by the mourners at Prue's funeral. Judging by the expressions on Piper and Phoebe's faces that day, it was probably one of the worst things to say to a person in grief.

"Because...she's with Mommy?"

But maybe not to a grieving child.

"Yes, that's right." Cole grabbed the opportunity for discussing the...brighter aspects of death. "With your mother, your grandfather, with your great-grand parents..." He let the sentence trail off, not wanting to elaborate her surrogate mother and only parent figure wasn't the only person she would lose in the future. Neither explain the strange fact that her great-grandmother was now her sister, Piper. "She's with a lot of people. With family. Do you really think she or anyone of them would want you to be sad?"

While the tears still trickled, the symptoms of grief visibly lessened. Phoebe contemplated his words, before she shrugged. "I don't know. I never met them. Grandpa died when Mommy was little. I don't know anyone else." She sniffled loudly and raised a hand to scrub her runny nose. "Cause they're all dead."

"But your Grams married again." Not to mention another three times out of six times she had been engaged. "You must have..." Cole took a hesitant step, unsure whether someone who believed in Cinderella and happily ever after believed in divorce and re-marriage. "More family out there."

"Grams says no one else matters besides Grandpa." Phoebe gazed solemnly at Grams photograph. "He'll always be her true love."

"I see." He sensed a _but_, something Phoebe wasn't saying...something which may very well help Cole. But first things first. "Let me get you a tissue."

Phoebe stopped wiping her tear-stained hands and runny nose on the sofa. "Okay..."

As fate, destiny and karma would have it, a tissue box wasn't conveniently lying around in plain sight.

His searching gaze again fell on the half-whitelighter's belongings, which stood out for even a blind man to notice.

He glowered, instantly knowing fate and destiny weren't responsible for things not being where they belonged. Piper had lectured Paige a million times, but apparently, words had no affect on the half-whitelighter's clutter habit.

Grudgingly, Cole embarked on a quest for a tissue box.

He ignored his reflection on the various antique mirrors, the paintings, the framed photographs, shattered glass and any other reflective surface he encountered.

_"We're one now…I'm reborn….within you."_

He didn't want to catch a glimpse of his lips, twisted into a diabolical smile. He didn't want to see the triumph in his eyes; soulless and black as coal, burning with a fire which could vanquish demons, witches...mortals. Even the ruthless, bloodthirsty, vilest of evil creatures visibly trembled under the fiery gaze. It reminded them of power... how far that power transcended...how they had no choice.

_"You...won't have a choice."_

He didn't want to decipher the flutter of whispers scratching him. And then fight the overwhelming feeling of despair.

Falling into despair was like struggling in quicksand. The more you struggled, the quicker it consumed you.

The battle was lost if he gave in to despair. He couldn't lose hope. He had to keep fighting.

A slap in the face from an elderly lady may have attracted amused looks, but a slap across the face from an unmarried, bitter old Phoebe who absolutely despised him? It was a red flag. A red flag everyone would be analyzing and speculating every detail over. Paige would be having a field day with all the conspiracy theories against him.

But Paige's paranoia was the proverbial icing on the cake.

The more paranoid and questioning Paige got, the more uneasy Phoebe got. The more uneasy Phoebe got, the more motivation to interrogate Future Phoebe. The sooner Future Phoebe started talking, the quicker the whole nightmare could end. For all of them.

And he and Phoebe could finally get married.

Right now, all Cole could do was keep Little Phoebe company. Make sure the child was back to the happy, inquisitive child, badgering him with questions not long ago.

_"When are we going to get married?" _

Those had been the first words out of her mouth when he had been assigned the task of keeping an eye on her. It had been an answer to his indifferent _hi_.

_"We?"_ He had been left momentarily stunned, but he recovered.

_"Uh-huh. You and me."_

Cole had cocked an eyebrow at her. _"You're a bit too young to get married, don't you think?"_

Of course smart as she was proving to be, she had rephrased her question.

_"When are you going to marry me when I grow up?"_

_"Uh…You would have to ask Phoebe about that. But she's busy right now."_

_"Is old lady also me?_

If the 'Student of the Year' picture in her album didn't prove it, then that question most definitely did.

The kid was too smart. And too curious.

_"She is. But I don't think she would like being bothered by questions."_

_"Why?"_

_"Well because she's pretty tired right now."_

_"Cause she's old?"_

_"Yes...something like that." _

He had hoped that would be the end of it. But it had been wishful thinking.

_"Do Piper and Leo have kids?"_

He had let out a very patient sigh. _"No. Not yet." _

"_So Piper's gonna have a kid? Is that why she's fat?"_

"_As far as I know, you're the only kid here right now. And don't let Piper ever hear you say that about her."_

He didn't need telepathy or experience and knowledge of over a century as a mercenary to predict the next set of questions...

_"Is Prue also married? Does she have kids?__ Who's her husband?"_

Cole had never provided her the answers. Instead, he had provided her a distraction.

_"Listen, why don't you go through that album Phoebe gave you, alright?" _He had suggested as casually as he could, so as not to arouse any suspicion_.__ "It might have the answers you're looking for..."_ And for a good measure, he added. _"Hmm...it says here you were...student of the year? Is that right?"_

She preened and blushed._"Yeah."_

_"I didn't know that. That's very impressive," _he had complimented._ "I wonder what more interesting and impressive things about you are in this album….Don't you?"_

It had worked. Phoebe took the bait.

Everything had been going well, until she had evidently stumbled across a picture of her grandmother and then noticed her gaping absence, put two and two together and realized_— _

_Where is Prue?_

The unbidden thought penetrated his mind, questioning him. Mocking him.

Grinding his teeth, Cole shoved it at the back of his mind. Finally locating the object of his quest, he grabbed the overturned tissue box off the wicker chair and strode back to the sitting room where Little Phoebe was located. "Here…." He offered her the box.

"Thank you," she said in a small voice as she accepted it.

"You're welcome." Cole then waited after a minute had passed, before he spoke. "Do you believe that too?"

"What?" She hiccupped as she dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose. With the same tissue. And not in the same order.

"That your grandfather is your Grams true love?" Cole asked conversationally. "What do you think?"

Phoebe's red-rimmed eyes grew huge.

"Does this...other true love have a name?" Cole continued casually, happy to see Phoebe being further lured out of the clutches of sadness and grief by surprise.

Phoebe pursed her lips, clasped and unclasped her hands, clutched the tissue so tightly that is was reduced it to an origami of torn mess. But she still didn't utter a response.

"I'm guessing it's…Tom? Or maybe Billy?" Cole decided to help her decide. "But it could also be Ben…Christopher….Perry?"

Phoebe made a face. "No."

"No?" Cole pretended to muse deeply. "Well that's a funny name for a guy."

Phoebe's lips twitched, but they didn't form into a smile.

However it was a sign Cole was close. Just one more push. "Or perhaps he doesn't have a name?" Cole inclined his head at her. "Is that what you meant by no?"

Biting her lip uneasily, Phoebe finally...slowly confessed in a whisper.

"I'm sorry? Who?" A whisper even he couldn't catch.

Taking a very deep breath which wracked her small body, she uttered the name. "Armand."

Cole had to physically restrain himself from instinctively blurting: The Necromancer! "Oh. A-Armand…is it?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded numbly.

Cole was far from numb. He was brimming with questions, which was ridiculous. Many Armands existed in this world. He didn't understand why he connected that name with that particular demon. "Is there a last name?"

She shrugged. "I dunno."

"And why do you think your grandmother would have anything to do with this...Armand?"

Considering the woman's stream of failed marriages and engagements, not to mention a cursed wedding ring to prevent another failure, it was painfully hard to imagine Penny Halliwell being even romantically linked with a demon. Unless of course it involved painful torture and excruciating vanquish of the said demon...

As for the said demon, he had been dead for over a century. Though like the Necron, the Necromancer was stuck between life and death.

Perhaps he had been a powerful demon a century ago, but now….he scrounged for magical spirits to get a fleeting taste of life. He wasn't fit to rule let alone form his own faction. He wouldn't be a threat to the Charmed Ones.

Or the throne.

It had to be a different Armand. A human. A witch even.

Phoebe glanced sideways, before she pulled out a crumbled photograph from her pocket and held it towards him.

Stunned, Cole took it and carefully unfolded the memory worn by age and Phoebe's not so fragile handling, only to have his wild guess which he debunked earlier confirmed.

The Necromancer and Penny Halliwell. A demon and witch.

Cole observed slack-jawed.

Judging by how the sisters reacted to his and Phoebe's relationship, how Phoebe reacted to the notion of a demon falling in love, they knew nothing about her grandmother's affair.

Did Penny's daughter know?

He wouldn't be surprised if Patty had also been kept in the dark.

Like the forbidden half-whitelighter child secret, Penny Halliwell took her forbidden relationship with a demon to the grave.

Not until her ten year old granddaughter from the past dug it up. The truth.

No matter what, how or even when, the truth always..._always_ had a way of revealing itself.

As Cole's mind raced over the how, when and where of the unraveled secret, the unbidden _where_ lingered with a vengeance.

_Where is Prue?_

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><p><strong>AN: **Where is Prue?

Cole:Oh she's with your mother, Grams and Andy.

Little Phoebe (gasping): Andy's dead too?

Umm...yeah...well lol, that huge problem is for another day another chapter. Not sure which one. But I do know next chapter might take awhile because of 1) real-life and 2) chapter a bit longer and the cliffhanger more evil and 3) Little Phoebe being babysat by Cole who is being slowly possessed by the Source is probably one of the hardest, insanest thing I've ever written.

If you guys want me to continue this craziness, then review. I'm not a telepath and can't read minds. So I guess the only way for me to know is through…a **review!** Please? :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: As usual, don't own the characters or the dialogues from the show used in this chapter.**

**A/N****: First of all,** **thank you for the lovely reviews and follows. To those reviewers I couldn't reply through PM: **

_Jaque Forever_: Hope you enjoy another installment of Little Phoebe and Cole's conversation :-)

_Guest: _I enjoyed Cole/Phoebe as well, hence the idea of writing this fic :-) I can't say more without being spoilery.

**And even if she's too young for fanfics, I would also like to thank my ten year old niece for being an inspiration and helping me finish this chapter. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys and review?**

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><p>"Where did you get this?" Cole asked slowly, studying the impeccably dressed ageless demon in a suit with a young Penny Halliwell draped too casually around someone who wasn't her husband.<p>

"I found it," Little Phoebe replied briskly...evasively.

Cole lifted his head to regard her with an appraising look. "Found it where?"

"In a box," came the elusive reply.

"And the box was…where?"

Phoebe twisted the torn tissue she had used earlier to wipe her tears. "In...umm...Grams closet."

Cole narrowed his eyes at her. "You just happened to find this photo, in your Grams closet, one day?"

"No." She lied straight to his face, practically challenging him to contradict her. "Yesterday."

Cole's firm stance faltered. He chuckled amusedly. "Alright then."

Atleast _yesterday_ was the truth. But as long as she didn't snatch anything from the future, he was willing to look the other way.

He did however make a mental note to tell Phoebe to give Little Phoebe a pat down before she was returned.

For now, another witch and a demon occupied his thoughts.

Cole held the stolen photograph for closer inspection. Based on his extensive knowledge about the Halliwells and the fact he had been a century old demon, he guessed the picture was taken somewhere in 1940.

Almost two hundred and fifty years after Melinda Warren was burned at stake and twenty years after Penny's mother, and her cousin , cursed and strangled their cousin, .

Phoebe's past life.

Cole reeled in the dark thoughts and proceeded with further examination of the forbidden relationship in a detached manner.

While Phoebe wasn't the only apple which didn't fall far off the forbidden tree, he always believed she was the first Halliwell to fall for a demon.

Or a ghost of a demon in this case.

Not that a witch and a demon were unheard of. The demon, Jeric and the witch, Isis were legendary in demonic circles. Not because Jeric was a guy going to unimaginable lengths to get his lost love back, after his enemies flayed her alive. It was because he was responsible for the deaths of countless witches for over millennia as he sought a perfect replacement body for the disembodied Isis.

"Hmm..." Cole mused, carefully smoothing the creases of the old photograph.

He had a hard time imagining Grams feeding the Necromancer spirits of the dead to sustain him in the name of love. Or even falling in love.

But somehow, someway, the Necromancer had weaseled his way into Penny Halliwell's heart.

"Could Armand be my real grandpa?"

Cole gaped at the small version of his fiancée in astonishment.

"Rick Gitterdge's dad really turned out to be not his Dad and Ramona's Mom turned out to be not—" Phoebe listed examples of what he could only guess were her classmates as her imagination practically raced with wild possibilities. "Is Armand...Mommy's real dad?"

After processing the babbling, Cole couldn't help it. He let out a laugh. Of course the scowl on her face made him stop. "I...don't think so. That's not possible."

"Why?" she practically demanded. If a mortal's glare could vanquish, this one would've had a demon burning and screaming in agony by now.

Cole quickly straightened himself and cleared his throat.

"A picture really doesn't prove anything. You need something a little more substantial...solid," he explained as simply as he could to a ten year old. "And, you better return this before your Grams finds it missing." He handed her back the photograph. "I don't think she'll appreciate anyone going through her belongings."

Phoebe slowly folded the photograph and stuffed it inside her jean's pocket. The ten-year old then wrung the maligned tissue she clutched before speaking again, "I found Grams' secret diary too."

Cole bit down a groan. "Oh. Did you now?" He half-expected her to materialize the said secret diary out of thin air.

"Is a secret diary substantial? And solid?"

"Maybe. But what makes you think it's your grandmother's _secret_ diary?"

"Cause she wrote the secret ingredient of her blueberry cobbler." Phoebe flung the corpse of the tissue at the waste basket. It missed. "It's honey. And splash of rum." She huffed before her expression became conflicted. "And she also wrote things about Armand...that his favorite dinner is lamb chops with mint jelly and he likes Clark Gable movies and wine and enjoying...uh..." She blushed and shifted uncomfortably, not willing to say what Cole had a pretty good idea of. She finally gave up and proclaimed vehemently: "You only write things about a boy if you really _really_ love him!"

Cole felt the corners of his mouth emerge into a small smile. "Is that so?"

_Cole likes walks in the park, jazz, fine wine. He's ticklish (toes and waist especially) He's an excellent salsa dancer, pretends otherwise. He likes steak, medium rare, and artichokes. He's great in bed. Good stamina._

The additional information and the photograph of Belthazor's human half weren't in the Book anymore. Phoebe had torn the page. The photo however, was kept in a box, buried under a mountain of clothes in her closet.

He suspected the same didn't apply for Penny Halliwell.

Unlike Phoebe, Penny must've destroyed all evidence of her involvement with Armand. For awhile, she may have kept some treasured belongings under lock and key. Up until the point she discovered she had a heart condition.

"A-And you only write _those_ kind of things about a boy... if you actually did it...with the boy..."

Or when one of her granddaughters travelled to the future and showed him of all people a picture of her demon lover.

And then began speculating intimate details about her secret love life.

"I get the picture Phoebe," Cole cut in quickly.

But atleast he didn't have to deal with uncomfortable topics like where babies came from. Phoebe obviously knew too much.

"Grams cheated on Grandpa didn't she?"

Cole groaned inwardly.

He just had to deal with the topic of infidelity and children born out of wedlock.

"Phoebe…." He felt the beginning of a migraine not caused by the Source. "Number one, Armand isn't a boy. Second of all, not that it's any of our business, maybe your Grams did like this...man—"

"Really _really_ like," Phoebe interjected.

"Okay…" Cole inhaled patiently. "Really like Armand," he corrected. "And maybe she even—"

"Cheated on grandpa?"

"No. Maybe _she_ liked him too. But a photograph and writing about his favorite meals and other hobbies doesn't prove that your grandmother—"

"Cheated on fake Grandpa?"

"Or that Armand is your mother's father. Or your grandfather."

If rumors were true, Penny became a demon hunter after her husband was killed. Armand may have happened before that. But In between her marriage? Or something akin to Patty's affair after being separated, not divorced? It was hard to say anything without more information. Grams' little black book of spells and recipes wasn't enough to prove infidelity, As for Phoebe's lineage….

"One thing I know for sure is you're Phoebe Halliwell. Not Phoebe Armand."

"How do you know?" The impatient child glowered at him, still wanting to believe her mother was the product of a love affair between her grandmother and a secret lover.

"Trust me, I just know."

"How?" Phoebe still wanted tangible proof. Details. "How do you know?"

Aside from the fact neither she, her sister nor her mother ever displayed any demonic powers by now, if Penny could find a way to raise her half-demon daughter, then she would've found a way to keep her half-whitelighter quarter demon granddaughter.

But one thing proved beyond reasonable doubt whose granddaughter Phoebe was.

Belthazor.

His vanquished demonic half.

_"I can always sense it. Before I suppressed my demonic self for Phoebe, I can sense how human killers form inside."_

Cole would've sensed it. He would've known if she was a demon or half demon, half-witch or plainly just a human killer; be it a psychopath, serial killer or both wrapped in one and possessed by guardian demons.

The only time he ever sensed anything like bloodlust or darkness from Phoebe was when the High Priestess Dantalian, had turned Prue evil through a marriage ceremony to a warlock —

"HOW!"

Cole winced.

—and when Phoebe nearly shattered his ear drums with a Banshee's scream.

"Alright..." He cleared his throat as he looked at her. "Is your favorite dinner lamb chops with mint jelly?"

"No! Killing a-and eating little baby sheep is cruel and heartless!" The protection of innocent creatures shone through her brightly. "And gross."

"Okay." That practically ruled out any sociopath tendencies. One of the first sign of serial killer in children were usually animal killings. "Do you like Clark Gable?"

"I don't even know who that is."

"Wine?"

Phoebe pouted. "Grams won't let me drink."

Cole raised an eyebrow at her. "Smart woman."

Phoebe skewered him with a wry look, still waiting for evidence. Still not convinced of her ancestry and lineage.

"Did you know Grams changed her last name to Halliwell after she married your grandfather?"

Phoebe lowered her eyes, the definition of ashamed. "Grams said women always keep their last names in our family."

"Well then she must've really loved your grandfather to do that. Don't you think?" He gave her something to ponder about. "If your Grams had kept her last name, then you and your sisters' last names would've been…Johnson or even Warren—"

Phoebe just stared at him blankly. "Warren?"

Cole sighed, not wanting to indulge her curiosity. "Never mind. The important thing is that, you're Phoebe Halliwell, granddaughter of Penelope Johnson and—"

"Allen Halliwell," she finished resignedly…disappointedly. "I'm a Halliwell."

Cole sighed heavily.

He always hated the disappointed look and the tone of Phoebe's voice. Little Phoebe managed to mimic it perfectly.

"Is there a reason you don't want to be a Halliwell?" he prodded gently. "Why is it important to be related to Armand?"

"No reason," she responded glumly, avoiding eye contact.

"Uh-Huh…." he remarked dubiously, his curiosity only increasing. "Did you want to find him? Is that why you're carrying around that picture?"

Phoebe shook her head, shuffled her feet, but never elaborated.

"Well then, why?"

Phoebe had moved to New York looking for her father four years ago. Was this an earlier attempt to fill the void left by her father? By playing Cupid to get her grandmother together with Armand? Could a ten year old kid even pull off such a bold plan?

His answer was a question instead. "Are you a police officer?"

"Uh…No." He blinked at the unexpected query. "What makes you think I am one?"

She frowned at him disapprovingly. "Cause you ask too many questions."

"_I_ ask too many questions?" Cole asked between amused and incredulous.

"Uh-huh. You do."

"Hmm," Cole murmured amused.

Perhaps he had been asking those questions which were hitting a nerve. And Little Phoebe didn't appreciate it. The only reason people don't want other people asking questions are when things needed to be hidden.

While his reasons for keeping secrets besides having no choice was of course, the future consequences, what could possibly be Phoe—Little Phoebe's reasons?

"Andy's dad also does that," Phoebe continued, avoiding whatever that was bothering her. "And he also wears the same jacket."

"Andy's dad has good taste then."

But he decided not to pursue the matter. Phoebe wouldn't give him a straight answer anyway. And knowing her track record with secrets, she'll reveal it sooner or later.

Cole chuckled to himself.

And really, what deep dark secret could a child have anyway? Killed the neighbor's cat? Killed the ice cream man? Switched bodies with her long-lost sister?

"Andy says he wants to be like his Dad when he grows up. Catch bad guys."

For now there was nothing demonic about Phoebe Halliwell. Nothing inside of her to suggest the making of serial killer or a demonic one otherwise. Sure there was a dark side. Everyone had a dark side. If a soul didn't have a dark side, then he would've had a happy child giggling as if she had snuffed too much fairy dust.

Little Phoebe's dark side right now was lying, keeping secrets and stealing photograph from her grandmother.

Nothing demonic about that. No dark aura. No homicidal tendencies...nothing brewing beneath the surface of the ten year old girl.

"So are you a police officer too? Is that your job?"

She was only brewing with a million and one questions.

"Well I'm not a cop or….police," he said eventually. "But I've worked with them from time to time."

Phoebe eagerly looked at him, waiting for him to reveal his job.

"I'm a lawyer." The greatest unemployed lawyer for now.

The eagerness immediately left her face. "Oh."

"Oh?" Curiosity literally scratched at him. He wondered if he should've selected a different occupation when lying.

Phoebe scrunched her face. "Grams said all lawyers are evil and should be vanquished to the deepest pits of hell."

"Oh." He now perfectly understood her reaction. "Alright...Well..." He wet his lips, wondering how best to tackle the issue. "Seeing as you're a very smart girl, do you really think Phoeb—uh…your future self would've agreed to marry me if I was the—" Words got stuck in his throat, as if it was being squeezed. "E-Evil?" He finally breathed out. The strangulating hold disappeared.

Phoebe expelled a noisy breath and shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose not…"

"Then you also probably understand what your grandmother said…about lawyers being evil..." He gently rubbed his neck. "You know it was just an exaggeration. It's not true."

"Yeah I know." Phoebe nodded, understandingly before she literally sucker punched him with what she said next. "Nathaniel Fat says he wants to be a lawyer so he can put people away in jail."

"Nathaniel?" Cole suddenly felt admirable respect for a woman who had raised Phoebe. The shocks and surprises Phoebe kept pouring down would've had a heart patient flat lined by now. "Nathaniel Pratt?"

"Yeah. Him," Phoebe confirmed, completely oblivious to the consequences of the revelation. "He said he's gonna be a lawyer someday."

"I'm sorry..." Cole still reeled with mind numbing shock. "How...how exactly do you know him...this kid, Nathaniel again? Is he one of your classmates?"

She made a face. "He's not a kid. He's as old as you," she corrected him, only increasing his worries to epic proportions. "He visits homeowners' meeting with his Mom," she relayed indignantly. "He's always eating all our cookies and ice cream...and chocolates!" She complained. "Grams doesn't even stop him. She lets him get away with it."

"So he's…Pratt is your neighbor?" Cole slowly processed.

"Uh-huh. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Andy's our neighbor. He's our faraway neighbor," she clarified.

Cole chuckled humorlessly. "I see."

That still didn't make it better.

All this time, he had been risking his life to protect her from demons from hell. And she deemed it insignificant to mention the man, who abhorred witches as much as demons did and was single-handedly responsible for landing her on the pyre was living right next door.

Or faraway door.

Then again, she had never considered it important to mention to him they had a shadow demon living right under the basement. However, she didn't hesitate to mention the _Woogy_ to Paige when she had been merely a stranger here.

"So, Pratt wants to be a lawyer now?" Cole inquired briskly, willing himself to remain calm, cool...rational. Powers were tied to emotions. Anger and hate were triggers for almost all demonic powers.

And an easy way for the Source to gain full control of him.

"That's what he says." Phoebe shrugged, not really caring.

Cole wrung his hands repeatedly, keeping violent emotions at bay. "Any idea where this sudden interest in law came from?"

What had motivated Pratt?

Anger?

Hatred?

Revenge?

Cole gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

Phoebe?

"I don't know, I didn't ask him," Phoebe told him. "But Ramona says it's cause he wants to be a president or something later and save the world."

"Sounds very ambitious of Pratt." Ambitious enough to start modern day version of the Salem witch trials…

"And crazy," Phoebe murmured, not really caring about Pratt's goals and plans for the future. "Rick says there isn't a fat chance of that happening."

To her it seemed ridiculous.

And just maybe, the idea of a ten year old pushing a man to become a future witch hunter was insane.

But men like Pratt were far from insane.

He should know.

Cole lowered his eyes, his anger subsiding.

He worked with men like him on All Hallow's Eve in the 17th century, to turn the whole Halliwell line evil.

Not something he was proud of.

Not something Phoebe would be proud of as well if she had been in his shoes. Enough to be ashamed to share her past.

Or alternate future past, in this case.

"But I guess Pratt's not really bad if he wants to save the world. So not all lawyers are bad," Phoebe concluded.

Cole drew in an unsteady breath and raked a hand through his hair. "That's one way of putting it."

Perhaps his reaction over Pratt was a bit crazy and ridiculous. Born out of his fierceness to protect Phoebe.

Because realistically, what could he tell her? Stay far away from Pratt? Don't talk to him, don't call him names, don't invite him for dinner; don't even breathe the same air as him?

It would only invite twenty million questions from her.

Worst case scenario?

It could change both the present and future.

Telling her to stay away from Pratt because he could be dangerous for her would be similar to telling her to stay away from all her delinquint high school friends, alcohol, drugs and rebellious behavior.

If Phoebe grew up to be nice like Piper or responsible and uptight like Prue because of his meddling, she wouldn't hesitate to vanquish a century old demon who fell in love with a Charmed One.

So whatever influence Pratt had...will have on her, he couldn't mess with it.

Besides, Pratt had obviously moved out of the neighborhood. Phoebe had obviously forgotten about his existence. And as proven by Old Phoebe, the future changed.

Phoebe wasn't burning at the stake. She was only burning with hatred.

For him.

He should consider himself lucky. The more Future Phoebe hated him, the more motivation for Present Phoebe to change her future.

"Are lawyers psychic too?"

Cole welcomed the change of topics. "And why would you think we're psychics?"

"Cause you know things."

"You mean I can accurately guess things?" He rephrased.

"Yeah." To her, it was the same thing.

"Well...lawyers get good at reading people...understanding them."

Phoebe gnawed at her lip and fiddled with her bracelet. "Grams...she can sometimes do that too."

Cole chuckled. "I think all grandmothers have that ability naturally."

Phoebe continued to fiddle with her bracelet, but she finally returned to the topic she had been avoiding. "I am really not…an Armand. Am I?" she asked quietly, hopefully.

Cole vaguely wondered if accusing Grams of cheating had been a coping mechanism to deal with shock and trauma of her death. "Sorry kid." And he hated himself for being the one to crush her hope again. "You're neither an Armand or were secretly adopted."

It flashed across her face for a mere second, but the cringedidn't go unnoticed.

Cole narrowed his eyes.

Suddenly, a ten year old's deep, dark secret didn't seem childish and silly anymore.

And whatever it was, he sensed it had nothing to do with grief or shock over Grams' passing. There was something more. A lot more Phoebe wasn't revealing. It was something bigger than Armand. And Pratt.

Cole had only scratched the surface of it. Of course before he could delve deeper...

"How do you know Pratt?"

...Phoebe changed the subject.

"I don't." Cole replied, studying her intently. "Never even met the guy."

"Then how did you know it was Pratt?"

"What was Pratt, Phoebe?" he asked, distracted by what she was concealing than what she was saying. Putting pressure on her to reveal won't do any good. It would have the opposite effect of her guarding her secrets more fiercely. He had to tread carefully.

"If you're not psychic, how come you know Nathaniel's last name is Pratt?" Phoebe repeated, frustrated before her eyes grew huge. "Is he really the president now?"

Her words finally sunk in.

"Preside—No! Of course not."

"The how come you know his name?"

"Well because he's..." Cole trailed off, not because he didn't know, but because he knew.

Pratt was a local District Attorney who had discovered and successfully prosecuted Phoebe for the murder of a baseball player. Not to mention began the witch trials.

But that wasn't the only thing Cole knew.

He knew anger...fury...rage and hatred. How the rage and need for vengeance, almost surpassed Fury Piper's thirst for punishing evil.

Cal Greene had been let off due to a technicality. A loophole. And she had waited outside his physical therapy room, at the stadium, concealed under a staircase to rectify the flaw.

From the excruciating experience with bounty hunters' lightning powers to being struck with energyballs of all voltages, Cole knew when Phoebe had placed her hands around Cal's head and bolts of electricity sparked from her palms, the man would be dead in mid-air.

"He's...what?" Little Phoebe's voice burst into his reminscing of memories which didn't belong to him. "Pratt is what?"

"He's..." He staggered as if he had been the one physically struck—shocked along with Cal Greene. He grabbed on to the nearest piece of furniture to steady himself.

"Cole? Are you okay?"

"F-Fine. I'm fine," he lied, fighting down a storm of emotions from overwhelming him. "Just a...just a headache. Don't worry."

He slowly inhaled, needing to ease his racing mind as it tried to make sense of everything.

Cal Greene. Nathaniel Pratt. Hobart State Penitentiary. February 26, 2009...Phoebe had never shared those with him. They weren't anywhere in the information Triad had provided.

His imagination could never create such vivid details.

Her future powers were definitely not a creation of his imagination. Levitation, he could dream about. But the other power...electrokinesis? He didn't know.

He didn't want to know.

That power…it was not a natural progression of either premonition or levitation. He didn't want to analyze or make assumptions about how she had acquired it.

"_Trust me...avenging an innocent feels ...pretty damn good_." Phoebe's comforting words from long ago rang in his ears. Unlike before, they suffocated him.

He didn't want to know anymore.

The desire to know , to seek, it must've triggered it.

How many times had he wished he could just know what Phoebe was thinking? Wish he could read her mind?

Know her secrets?

Cole snatched his hand back, hovering behind Little Phoebe for God knows how long. Glowing.

He didn't remember. But the need to know...it had always been unconscious...natural.

_"The Source's magic brought you. I see you accepting that very soon."_

"It's cause he's a lawyer too? Is that how you know Pratt?" Phoebe gazed up at him, her expression innocent and naïve. Nothing like the look on her face when she had finally released her hold on Cal...

_"Remorseless to the end..."_

"Cole?"

Gripping his palms tightly, enough to draw blood, Cole finally nodded. "Yes..." Somewhere among the echo of whispers, laughter reverberated inside his head. "Something like that I suppose." He restrained himself from giving into fear.

But just for a split second, he wondered, how long before he became a voice...a mere whisper inside his own head...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hmm….I count that as a mildly evil cliffhanger. I think next chapter probably has the most evilest one. That is if you guys want the next chapter :-)**

**I hope there was no confusion about Cole/Source's mind-reading powers. Shimmering here, flaming there and TK is simple enough to write. But writing powers like telepathy, empathy...especially when it's not under control, hard!**

**And just out of curiosity, how many of you out there know the power Phoebe used to kill Cal Greene? It's not the one I mentioned here and shockingly, it indeed is a natural progression of Phoebe's powers. Will be a nice shock for Cole if he ever finds out, eh? ;-)**

**Anyways, review to let me know and also to motivate me to finish the next evil chapter ;-) **


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